


Even Miracles Can Hurt

by sanva



Series: Life Mates [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Political Animals
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Mentions of homophobia, Mentions of past suicide, Post-Avengers (2012), Pre-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Screwy timeline for Political Animals, Soulmates, mentions of AU religion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-04-13 09:01:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4515903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanva/pseuds/sanva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve lost a part of himself in 1944 when Bucky fell from the train. He should have died when his mate did, but the serum--or something--kept him alive.</p><p>TJ should have died when his mate committed suicide. A quirk of genetics or maybe just Hammond luck prevented him from doing so. He spent years denying what happened and drowning the pain.</p><p>Second chances don't happen that often, not for those who survive broken bonds. But maybe Steve and TJ deserve a miracle ... or two.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A.N. You don't have to read the stories before this one to get this 'verse. Basic time line notes to know about: sometimes in the last decade same-sex mates came out after hiding within an intricate community they had built, forcing the point of recognition. Some individuals can survive losing their mate due to distance (i.e. being on different planets) or due to genetics (i.e.the ATA gene inherited from the Ancients). This story has two parts with an interlude or two. Part one is completely finished I just need to do a bit of basic editing. Part two I'm filling in some sections. The interludes will deal with between part one and CA:tWS. I'm warning now that Part two will include Bucky.
> 
> Also please note this takes place in the same 'world' as my greater AU of this. So it is possible brief mentions of Teen Wolf, Stargate, or my J2 fic related themes may pop up. I have half a dozen other fandoms with half completed one shots I've never posted as well in this verse so something else may leak in but it wouldn't be major. Yes magic exists, werewolves and such do but aren't widely known. The Stargate is still classified and SHIELD is barely aware of it.
> 
> I am splitting this fic up into chapters based on POV. How a character refers to each other and what I write will be character knowledge based. IE: TJ refers to himself as TJ but Steve will start out with Thomas as that's how TJ introduces himself.
> 
> I'm writing this after reading a lot of other Steve/TJ fics and feeling the need to contribute and try to get back into this world to finish the other two WIPs in it (TW and SGA) which I have to re-write huge chunks of due to a laptop death.
> 
> If you have any questions about my soulmate verse that I don't clarify in this story please let me know and I will do some edits to clarify!!

_”C’mon,” Bucky grinned at him, taking his hand and twining their fingers together before pulling him up from the couch. “Dance with me, Punk!”_

_Steve couldn’t help but grin back as Bucky’s enthusiasm bubbled across to him. His mate had been in a great mood for hours. It had been nice, had actually helped him get some work done on a few of his more upbeat projects. He’d managed to get a couple of adverts done and a whole page of outlines for a comic he was hoping to sell._

_His sketch book fell to the floor as Bucky pulled him into the circle of his arms and arranged them. Steve had never been a good dancer; he was awkward and lacked Bucky’s natural grace. Half his major injuries over the years could be attributed to resulting from his own klutziness. The other half from the fights he got in._

_Bucky, on the other hand, was quite the ducky shincracker and loved to grandstand. It made him quite popular at the Bonding Halls. Steve was an admitted dead hoofer, but that didn’t keep Bucky from taking him for a spin in their small apartment from time to time._

_A few steps into the dance, as Bucky attempted to execute a move that would have nearly every dame falling over for him, Steve stumbled over his own feet bracing himself on Bucky’s arms._

_Steve groaned as he attempted to find his footing again. “What’s got you in such a good mood?”_

_“Got a new job!” Bucky said as he pulled Steve closer. He grinned and dipped his head down for a sweet kiss._

_Steve frowned against Bucky’s lips and his worry transmitted over the bond because Bucky was already shaking his head, grinning widely and laughing. “Don’t worry! It’s really a promotion! Just a few more hours each week and I have to go in earlier, but the pay raise is worth it. Plus I get to boss around that jerk Smith!”_

_And it had been worth it. Things had been great until the war broke out._

_Steve smiled back, allowing Bucky’s enthusiasm and happiness to infect him and wipe away the worry. He slid a hand around the back of his mate’s neck and reeled him for another kiss, deepening it before dragging Bucky towards their small bedroom._

 

 

Steve woke up to the sound of a car back firing, the memory of Bucky’s lips on his, and phantom tendrils of love teasing the frayed and broken edges of his bond. The feelings disappeared within moments, leaving him with an intense feeling of emptiness. 

Mornings were the hardest part of the day to get through, especially that brief moment before he was fully awake when wistful edges of dreams or just silence echoed through his brain before awareness seeped in and reality crashed into place. 

For most people this happens to the sound of an alarm, for Steve more often than not everything comes crashing back after an intense nightmare. 

For some people his nightmares could be described as dreams—illusive and happy memories that flowed and flittered through his mind. That isn’t what they are though, at least not to him. These _dreams_ leave him an emotional mess, rehashing pain and breaking open the wound that scars his soul and mind. 

Steve was empty inside or at least that is what it felt like most days.

There was a part of the population that would call him _lucky_ to have survived the death of his mate. No one had though as only a few people outside of his therapists, a few military higher ups, Peggy, and probably Nick Fury knew. The fact that Captain America was mated was a well-kept secret.

In the forties outside of the military only a couple people had known. There had been a doctor that Steve saw for a case of pneumonia in the winter of 1938 when he nearly died and Bucky’s sister Becca but that was it. Their parents may have suspected, but it wasn’t something that was willfully admitted or ever spoken about. Two individuals of the same sex being mated had been considered impossible by the general population.

A fact that the Church had been, for the most part, the main propagator of. And back then nearly everyone went to Church and knew the Word.

The only group that acknowledged same sex mates had been the military and that had been a necessity. They couldn’t have the mates of soldiers dropping dead back home or on another base with no seeming cause. While it wasn’t discussed outright it was an open secret that allowed for pairs to work together and live together. 

That had been one of the reasons Steve had worked so hard to join after Bucky was drafted, even when he had known, deep down, that the military wouldn’t be able to accept him. His laundry list of disabilities had been too great. Not that they hadn’t given him any accommodations—they had. After all Steve had held a secretarial position on the first base Bucky was stationed at after boot camp for months before leave took them back to New York and then Bucky was called overseas. If it hadn’t been for Erskine Steve likely would have been still working at a base in some capacity, eyes watching until he dropped dead when Bucky lost his life.

Steve rolled over and stared at the bright red digits of his alarm clock, watching the digits change as his insides calmed.

This morning wasn’t any different from the rest. Being pulled from a pleasant dream of him and Bucky in the small apartment they’d shared before the war, before Bucky was drafted and Steve drew the attention of Doctor Erskine, was a painful shock. One that he was well acquainted with.

Steve stared at the clock for a long stretch of minutes before pushing himself out of bed. He shrugged on a light weight and very tight shirt and a pair of sweatpants SHIELD had provided him with, along with much of his wardrobe and nearly everything else in his apartment. Running was one of the few things that allowed Steve to completely blank out.

 

When he ran he was able to focus almost his entire attention on the rhythm of his feet slapping against the pavement, the blur of people and buildings, and the repetitive motion of his lungs filling and emptying. There was something soothing about it, meditative. Every morning he was in town he went for a run, varying his route to learn more about the city SHIELD had moved him to.

The pale gray-blue pre-dawn light had blossomed into sunrise by the time Steve made his way home. He stopped by a small café on the way and the barista grinned at him, already crafting his usual drink as he perused the day’s pastry offerings.

“Morning!” Katherine, according to her nametag, chirped as she grabbed the largest cup size they had and moved to fill his cup. There had only been two people in front of him and the other barista was already filling both their orders.

“Good morning,” Steve acknowledged with a slight smile as he looked over both familiar and unfamiliar offerings. “I’ll take one of those,” he said tapping the glass lightly over a speckled and heavily frosted creation. 

“Good choice!” She smiled back at him, humming a little while she got his order ready.

He listened to her, focusing on the melody barely audible beneath the sound of other patrons and the machinery used to brew coffee and create the sugary works of art they served here.

As she handed Steve his drink he paused, lips pressing together before he spoke, “That’s a lovely tune, where’s it from?”

She flushed, cheeks turning bright pink, eyes widening. “Sorry! I didn’t know anyone could hear me!”

“You’re fine!” Steve assured her. “It wasn’t bothering me! I actually liked it.”

She bit her lip and ran her hands over the edge of the counter. “I’ve been working on it. My mate and I are in a band together. He sings and plays guitar. I’m on the keyboard.”

“Do you compose a lot of your songs?”

Katherine nodded and glanced to where the customers were lining up. Her fellow barista shot her an impatient look.

“It’s good,” he smiled and stepped back. “Let me know some morning if you finish it.”

“Will do!”

 

The city was already bustling as he made his way home to get dressed and ready for the day. It would be a late start for him today at SHIELD. He wasn’t scheduled to be in for any meetings or training exercises until after lunch, but he did have a mandatory therapy session today.

Of all the things SHIELD had arranged for him—practically forced him into—therapy was simultaneously the worst and the best. It was helping him though, Steve couldn’t deny that even if he hated it.

This particular therapist was a SHIELD vetted bond therapist that specialized in assisting those that survived broken bonds. In his time they weren’t spoken about and were often shunned by society. They had been so very rare back in the forties. Steve had met one person—a member of the French resistance—who had survived the loss of her mate. Most people didn’t even believe her when she spoke of it.

It was still very rare today, but population growth, medical and scientific advances, and a growing interest in the separation of the Church and state had allowed the existence of bond survivors to become acknowledged by the greater population. This awareness had followed the nationwide coming out that allowed same sex pairings to be acknowledged and become widely accepted half a decade before he was revived. 

And wasn’t that a kick in the pants? To wake up in a time where his bond with Bucky would have been accepted if not celebrated had possibly hurt more than the realization that he’d survived crashing the Valkyrie.

His apartment was a quiet one; it had been organized by SHIELD so he assumed that at least a few of his neighbors were agents. Some of the apartments were empty or only had one half of a mated pair moving through them daily. It was kind of obvious that it was in part, if not mostly, SHIELD housing.

He wasn’t sure if SHIELD was aware he could tell they were tailing him, but Steve they might have some idea. Steve had also cottoned on to at least a couple of the agents that followed him around over the course of the day. The dark haired dog walker he passed multiple times on his run was probably the least subtle of the bunch.

“Good morning, Steve!” his closest neighbor, Kate, called smiling at him. 

She was wearing purple scrubs with little multi-colored hearts on them. They passed each other often in the hall, her hours almost matching his at times. Supposedly she was a nurse, but something about her claim of employment didn’t sit quite right with him.

Kate wasn’t mated—at least he didn’t think so. The first time they’d met he’d seen the sliver of hope and flick of disappointment in her eyes before she introduced herself.

He nodded at her, raising his coffee awkwardly. “’Morning.”

“If only!” She yawned, bright white and nearly perfect teeth catching his eye, and then grinned sleepily at him. “Just came home to change and take a quick nap.”

"Must not have been much of a nap."

Her lips quirked wryly. “The nap didn’t end up happening.”

“I hope you’ll be able to get some rest soon.”

“Me, too,” Kate said, eyes on his coffee. “I’ve been binging too much on coffee. Probably part of what kept me up.”

“Might have to find an alternate pick me up,” Steve replied as she yawned again. “Sounds like you’ve got a busy schedule.”

She laughed. “You have no idea! One of my co-workers has food poisoning. I owe them one so I’m going to cover their shift.”

“Well I hope it’s worth it.”

“Overtime pay,” Kate shrugged, “I couldn’t say no.”

“Well,” Steve glanced towards his door, “I hope you have a good day.”

“You too!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TJ's Perspective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm a few days late! I had put in some job applications and had to run out of town for an interview. *crosses fingers* The pay would be much better than my current work at home call center/chat support work. I need to get out of the house.

There were a lot of things TJ was used to that he really wished he wasn’t. Most of them stemmed from bad life choices; he’d stopped trying to refute that over the past few months. TJ finally gave into rehab again and this time he’d followed through with visits to the therapists as well as living in a sober living community after his three month stint. 

It wasn’t as hard core as some of the sober living facilities he’d looked into, and it was geared to celebrities and politicians. His mother had insisted upon him choosing it once he had decided to look for a living situation that outlawed his main vices.

He had agreed and was glad. There was also a curfew that you had to make an appointment with the building manager with if you were going to break it.

The community itself—the people—were good for him and yes, TJ had even gotten to know his neighbors. He had made friends. Honest connections for the first time in a long time. Connections that weren’t based on his potential value politically because of his family or his fame. These people didn’t care about his lineage, just who he was as a person.

Still, sometimes things were a bit awkward for TJ. Almost half the building were single or separated individuals, people trying to get over mating’s gone wrong or the stigma of being single at an older age.

His next door neighbor, like many of the separated individuals in the building had real issues with living bond mates. She was a sweet girl but she looked constantly tired, her hands always shook. Last week she had spoken up for the first time during group, explaining how her mate was still drowning in his addiction half a country away. How she could still feel the echo every time he used. 

There were also quite a few mated pairs who had fallen into the wrong crowd, gone looking for something better than the emotional tumult a bond could be, or on the flip side to _numb_ the bond. No kids lived in the building though and very few pets.

TJ wasn’t sure whether he had wanted to numb the pain and emptiness or had been trying to find the exhilarating high. Probably some mix of the two. He’d been a roller coaster of want, pain, and self-loathing for nearly half his life.

It was still hard and often he _burned_ with the desire to skip out of his schedule and run to the nearest dealer for some blow every day. That need hadn’t—wouldn’t—go away. Slowly he was going longer and longer without thinking about it. TJ knew the addiction would always be there in the back of his mind, but for once he was hopeful about beating it.

Out of all of the therapists he’d been working with so far the bond therapist was helping the most. It had taken years for him to be able to acknowledge what he lost. TJ hadn’t really accepted it until this past year.

TJ supposed it would have been different if he could have acknowledged that he had bonded in the first place, but that was before everything had changed. Back when he was a teen people just didn’t believe in same sex bonding. He had bonded early, too. Fifteen was young, most considered it too young.

His mate had been half a year older and a grade higher than him. 

 

_TJ leaned back against the wall of the bathroom stall, it shook slightly from the weight. Panting, a smile spread across his lips as he stared at the other boy in the stall with him. This wasn’t what he was expecting, it was impossible. But it was also so right._

_“I’m TJ,” he found his voice as he pushed himself away from the wall using his elbows._

_The other boy backed up, eyes wide as the high they’d been running on abated for the moment. Then he froze eyes darting over TJ, pausing where TJ’s pants were hanging open around his thighs._

_An edge of panic slashed through the bond causing TJ to flinch and step forward. “Hey. It’s ok.”_

_The other teen jerked back and then bolted, slamming the door open and pulling his pants up as he ran._

_TJ stumbled, pulling up his own pants, holding them together as he exited the stall and stared at the swinging door of the bathroom._

 

He was just a distant memory now. The only reason TJ was able to remember his face were the pictures in the paper his therapist had assisted him with locating as part of accepting his situation. 

The other boy, after the initial frenzy in a school bathroom had run off. It hadn’t even been two hours—two hours of a myriad of emotions coursing through him and confusion—before the pain had hit TJ and he’d been hospitalized.

Rumors had abounded and it was apparently just his luck that not only did he _survive_ the loss of a mate whose name he didn’t learn until he saw the obituary, but the media got a hold of an eye witness account and fabricated a horrible tale of pre-mating scandal. Teenage sexual exploration had always been frowned up on by the Church.

In all honestly considering some of the rumors TJ was surprised that no one had attempted legal action. He must have had someone in the Community watching out for him.

The whole debacle had occurred near the end of his father’s stint as President, which in some ways was good. It meant he hadn’t been able to ruin his father’s political career. In the end TJ had been sent off to boarding school. The first of several.

His Nana had been the only one that had believed TJ’s stammered story—one he’d only half believed himself. His own twin brother, though supportive of his hurting sibling, had been the one whose eyes had conveyed the most doubt.

This therapist, one of a dozen he’d spoken to over the years, was different. There was no doubt or hints that he might have deluded himself into thinking he’d been mated. There was acceptance and a willingness— _want_ —in her every action and comment to help him. She _believed_ him and didn’t waive it off as a phantom bond. _Wishful thinking_.

That simple acknowledgement had probably helped him heal more than anything else. TJ was finally able to discuss what had happened and how empty he felt without the person across from him patting him on the hand and telling him that he would _find the girl for him one day!_

Forget that he wasn’t attracted to women—though he’d tried to be and hell, breasts were _nice_ —the gaping hole in his soul and mind was a constant aching reminder that wasn’t going to happen. Only 1% of those that survived broken bonds ever mated again according to the statistics he’d read. 

The drugs had helped numb the pain and so had the sex, but they never fixed it. TJ hadn’t been able to fill that gaping hole. Nothing had ever come close to the feeling that had been invoked the day he’d met eyes with his mate. The rush and excitement and love. Even the pain that followed and confusion and self-hatred that had flooded the bond before it broke. At least for that short time he’d felt complete.

For years he’d only felt empty. His family couldn’t understand and hadn’t really tried. They’d been too busy, wrapped up in the never-ending game of politics. At least not until TJ attempted suicide. Then suddenly his parents weren’t trying to ignore the proverbial elephant in the room. 

Which, considering his mate’s family, he probably would have been if things had been different.

Sean had been the tipping point of the whole thing. The conservative politician hadn’t been TJ’s mate, but TJ had fallen for him all the same. It wasn’t the same rush but a warm tingly feeling of love had burst through him whenever he saw the other man, like the crushes children giggled about as they discussed the cute boy or girl they hoped to end up mated to. 

Sean had claimed to love him, too.

TJ had thought they’d had something real. His wife had to have known—bond mates couldn’t hide emotions from each other and he had thought they’d been making love. Maybe Sean’s bond with his wife hadn’t been the strongest. There was a scale, after all, but TJ didn’t know what to believe. Tried to ignore the questions that burned now.

There had been a tale of a sex-less mating. Sean had described his wife non-sexual. They remained together for appearances and to build a family. Love didn’t factor in, supposedly, and apparently the usual bonding fever had been barely there. The tests had proved the bond existed, but there was little to no attraction. 

In the end it hadn’t worked out, Sean was blackmailed and went back to his picturesque family. TJ couldn’t handle the loss and his mother’s disappointment in him.

He ran a hand over his face and sighed, feeling wrung out. It was a common feeling for the end of a session. With each session he was feeling better, he’d been an utter wreck after his first meeting with the Doc. Now simply talking was becoming easier.

“I just wanted to say again how proud I am of you, TJ,” Dr. Johnson smiled at him as he moved to stand. She set her notebook aside and brushed off her skirt as she got up. “Six months is quite an accomplishment.”

“Six months tomorrow,” TJ said, quirking a lopsided grin as he slid a hand into his pocket, pulling out his phone. He always turned it off during his therapy session, considered leaving it off half the time, and needed to flip it back on in case his family reached out to him. 

With his mother running for President it was essential that he keep it charged and on as much as possible. He’d barely dodged having a secret service escort 24/7, as it was that was going to end real soon. Plus he was sure he had at least one secret service tail anyway since the formal announcement. When she won the nomination—and TJ was sure she would win it—there would be absolutely no avoiding it.

“Thank you,” he rocked back on his feet as he thumbed the power button on. Six months, and he had honestly been sober for the whole time, was the longest he’d been sober since before his failed mating. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“When it comes down to it, TJ, this is all you,” she replied firmly, smiling. She set her pen down on her desk and walked him to the door. “Your decision to face this is what makes the difference. I’m just here to support you.”

“Thanks, Doc.” He rolled his shoulders. “See you next week?”

“As usual, contact me if you need anything TJ.”

“Will do,” he called over his shoulder, “I have you on speed dial! You’re my number two!”

“Number two, really?”

“My Nana is number one, of course!”

The doctor laughed as the door shut.

The office was a small one on the fourth story of an office building. It was public, but out of the way and there were a variety of different practices housed in the building, everything from a dentistry practice to a law office. There was also a discreet guarded parking garage for clients that made the place ideal for those who are well known to visit without having their every move advertised to the paparazzi.

Other than the receptionist, a young woman whose mate worked for the state department—like TJ didn’t know what that was a bland alias for—the waiting room was empty. It was odd because generally there was another client waiting when he left. 

But TJ had moved days this week, switching his usual appointment time. His mother had wanted him to go to a family breakfast yesterday to discuss her upcoming debates and what, if any, role he would play during the campaign. She apparently had wanted to include him in at least a few events outside the major ones.

He was still working up the nerve to tell her no. But then, who said no to the President or rather President-maybe-to-be? TJ had never been good at standing up to his family.

Still, going on the campaign trail was the last thing he wanted or needed right now.

“You have me down for Tuesday next week, right?” he asked leaning against the wall near the desk and smiling.

She grinned back at him, a dimple showing in her left cheek. “That we do! Your usual time as well. That’s still good, right?”

“Sounds like a date.”

The door creaked a bit as it opened behind him. 

“I am so sorry I’m late! I got held up in traffic due to an accident.”

“You’re fine, Steve,” the receptionist waived away the man’s apologies, “you’re not even a minute late.”

“Still—“

“I just got done,” TJ interrupted, turning. “If anything I should thank you for the extra—”

The man before him was abso-fucking-lutely gorgeous. More beautiful than anyone TJ had ever laid eyes on before. Tall, blonde, covered in muscles and a shirt that was just this side of too tight.

Breathtaking didn’t even begin to describe how lovely he was. TJ couldn’t help but let his eyes roam as he spoke before meeting clear ocean blue eyes and—oh.

Oh, _fuck._

That sentence was never going to be finished.

The moment their eyes met TJ felt like a _hurricane_ rushed through him; a torrential downpour of feeling and _oh God_. He had never expected to feel anything like this ever again.

There hadn’t been any hope—well technically there was a 1% hope but he had never let himself be deluded into thinking that it would ever happen to him.

“Fuck.” TJ had lost any amount eloquence he’d ever had. His feet stumbled forward a few steps, moving of his own violation.

The man— _Steve_ —moved forward too.

The stopped a foot from each other, eyes still locked. He could see Steve’s hands shaking as he lifted them. He could feel his own body shaking.

The tenuous connection that had already snapped into existence between them was growing stronger and TJ could feel the surprise, doubt, confusion, hope and a myriad of other emotions that he was sure were both his and the man before him’s all mixed together. There was no separating the flood that was cycling back between them.

_TJ didn’t want it to ever end._

TJ raised a hand and caught one of Steve’s in his, entangling their fingers as Steve stepped even closer and rested a shaking hand against TJ’s cheek, fingers brushing his ear and neck. God, the man before him was _built_.

“Hi.” Steve murmured as he leaned forward, drawn by the invisible connection between them.

“Hey,” TJ responded and, unable to take it anymore, lunged forward. 

He wasn’t exactly known for his patience and as to self-control? He was still working on that.

Besides if God or whoever was in charge of the chaos of mating bonds was giving him a second chance at a mate he wasn’t going to squander it with questions or niceties.

“Oh!” The squeak of surprise and the scrape of a chair registered vaguely with him but he didn’t care.

He was kissing his _mate_. 

Nothing else mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve's POV

His therapist’s office was far enough away that walking wasn’t feasible, especially with him due for a training session with Strike an hour after the meeting. Steve opted to take his bike, one of the few items he’d purchased for himself.

There was a private parking garage in the building, for the privacy of the patrons of the businesses. All highly regarded and from what SHIELD explained often used by those who desired their secrecy. He attended a session bi-weekly, sometimes more often if the nightmares got to him. Sometimes less if SHIELD sent him on missions.

An accident at a main intersection caused a traffic jam that led to him being late. Steve thought of winding his way around traffic, his bike certainly would allow him to. The memory of the class SHIELD had insisted he take, Drivers Ed, held him back. He was going to be late.

When he reached the building, Steve ignored the elevator and took the stairs several steps at a time. 

He was already speaking when he pushed the door open, “I am so sorry I’m late! I got held up in traffic due to an accident.”

“It’s okay, Steve,” Marissa waived away his apology. “You’re not even a minute late.”

“Still—” Steve stopped as he caught site of another patient at the desk. The man was leaning against it, hip tilted. He was wearing jeans and an expensive looking leather jacket. It almost reminded him of something Tony Stark would wear.

“I just got done,” the man spoke, turning, a grin tilting her lips. “If anything I should thank you for the extra—”

He was gorgeous, and for a split second Steve’s breath was gone as his mind flashed back to his mate. The man, around his age—Steve’s physical age—or maybe a couple years older looked so much like Bucky. There were differences, the thicker, wavy hair and his eyes were more of a blue-gray than Bucky’s had been and—Oh.

Oh.

“Fuck,” the man breathed out, eyes widening in tandem with Steve’s.

Oh. _Oh God._

Sparks of emotion slammed into him, and the frayed and broken bond seemed to just disappear from one moment to another as Steve was flooded with the sense of another. It wasn’t Bucky, this was the feel of someone _different_. Different but oh so amazingly _good_. The completed feeling Steve thought he’d never feel overcame him and it was a blessed relief from the edge of emptiness and alone-ness he’d felt ever since Bucky fell.

For a split second he worried that he was being unfaithful to Bucky’s memory, but he let the knowledge that this wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t _right_ washed that away for the moment.

The man moved forward and moments latter they’d latched onto each other, the fingers of one hand tangling together as Steve lifted a shaking hand to settle against the lightly stubbled cheek. It felt like his body was vibrating with nerves. His eyes roamed, cataloguing every inch of the man before him. His mate.

“Hi.” He never had known how to speak to anyone but Bucky, not really.

“Hey.” White teeth wore at slightly chapped lips.

He couldn’t move, couldn’t believe—and then lips met his as his mate surged toward him. His hand slid from his mate’s cheek to tangle in the thick, slightly curly brown hair.

His mate was an excellent kisser, full of passion that held a slightly desperate edge. The fever was building between them and he felt fingers grasp at the back of his neck, blunt nails digging against his skin.

“Oh!” The receptionist gasped. A chair skidded against the floor and he heard her rush off.

Then a tongue was sliding against his and his senses narrowed to that moment and the man pressed against him. Steve pressed back and felt his mate’s hardness against his hip. The man moved forward and Steve, rather than holding his ground, allowed himself to be maneuvered back against the door.

“Thomas,” his mate breathed urgently, pulling back for a moment, his free hand sliding down to slip fingers into a belt loop, pulling Steve’s body towards him even as he pressed forward. He had pulled back far enough to meet Steve’s eyes, searching his face a question sliding across the bond between them.

Doubt and worry was swirling at the edges of his mind and Steve blinked. Something was wrong . . . and then the thought of where they were, at a bond therapist, had him pressing his lips together. He pulled their joined hand up and pressed a kiss to the back of Thomas’ hand.

“Steve,” he murmured and pressed as much joy and love through their bond as he could, “my name is Steve.”

The doubt faded and Steve was presented with one of the brightest smile’s he’d ever seen. It lit up his mates face and he couldn’t help leaning in again, settling his forehead against his mate’s he rocked his hips forward. 

Thomas drew in a shuddering breath and rocked back against him. The shorter man pressed forward, kissing him sweetly before increasing the passion and teasing Steve’s lips until he allowed Thomas access.

Even with the passion and fever, Steve could still feel an edge of hesitancy to Thomas’ actions.

They didn’t know each other yet—but they could feel every part of each other already—and considering where they were both of them had problems, issues to work through. Work through them they would, together. Steve would make sure of it.  
Thomas gasped and pulled back, pressing fully against Steve, he leaned down and pressed his lips in a biting kiss against Steve’s neck. 

Steve moaned head banging back against the door. One of his hands slid around to grasp his mate’s ass, pressing them firmly together. He only wished there was no barriers between them. 

The bond between them was growing, winding and filling in every crack that he’d felt in his mind and soul. He could still feel the ghost of Bucky, but it was duller, supported by everything that made up Thomas winding around him. There was a raw, stark pain coming from Thomas as well, and Steve reached inside himself as he captured Thomas’ lips and allowed the fever to flow through him, feeding in a never ending loop between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one just came out to being shorter then the other sections, adding to it didn't work though. I'll try and post on Wednesday this week to make up for the shorter chapter this time.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TJ's POV

TJ felt his mate— _Steve_ —come and reveled in the feeling. His own orgasm to rushed through them moments later. He pulled back and pressed his face into Steve’s neck as Steve’s head rested against the door.

He was panting as he pressed his lips against the long neck in front of him, sucking a kiss into the skin above Steve’s pulse point.

Steve moaned softly and TJ couldn’t believe his mate barely seemed out of breath. He could feel the fever abating for the moment, leaving him full of his mate in his mind, but allowing him to think.

That was when he remembered where he was. “Shit,” he groaned against Steve’s skin before dropping his head to rest his forehead against the crook of his Steve’s neck.

A hand slid up his back, rubbing gently, soothingly over his backbone. 

It wasn’t the same as his first mating, it wasn’t better or worse. It was _amazing_ and _fantastic_ and _everything_ he’d dreamed of as a kid and then some. The moment he’d met Steve’s eyes everything had changed.

“We need to go somewhere.” Steve’s lips pressed against the side of his head.

Grimacing a bit, TJ pressed his head forward against firm skin and muscle before pulling back to look at his mate.

There was a flush, bright pink and adorable, tinting Steve’s cheeks. Right. They were in public, not as public as it could be, but they were still at a therapist’s office in the middle of town. 

“We should.” TJ caught Steve’s hand gain and tightened his grip around Steve’s fingers. 

TJ’s gaze dropped to their twined fingers and he smiled, catching his bottom lip between his teeth before looking up at Steve, face still tilted down. Steve was smiling back at him, his thumb brushing gently against TJ’s skin.

“Your place or mine?”

“I’m not picky.” Steve’s free hand smoothed up TJ’s neck and cupped his cheek. “We could stop by my place, grab a few things, and go to yours . . . or the other way around.”

“That sounds good.” TJ couldn’t help but feel a bit of shame, self-doubt, over the fact that he’d be taking his mate home to a sober living apartment complex. A rather high end one, sure, but it was still rather regulated. “My place is fine.”

“We need to pick up anything?” The flush deepened a bit as Steve’s eyes flicked over TJ’s shoulder.

“I have stuff,” TJ tilted his chin up and smiled. 

Steve looked adorable with a blush flushing his cheeks and if he wasn’t mistaken it looked like it might trail down his neck and further. TJ caught Steve’s lips in a gentle kiss. After a moment he stepped back a little, letting their tangled hands swing slightly between them and Steve’s other hand slipped down to his shoulder.

He turned, taking in the blushing forms of the receptionist and therapist.

“I want to see you two once the fever’s over.” Doctor Johnson’s gaze bore into them, a smile was on her face though. She left the fact that this mating wasn’t going to fix everything for either of them lay between them all unsaid. “Marissa will work out a schedule shift so you can have individual and a couple’s session the same morning.”

TJ groaned in the back of his throat and leaned back against Steve’s side.

“I’ll email you,” Marissa said moving back to her desk. “And text you, TJ.”

“Thanks,” he said, opening his eyes and letting himself smile again. “I guess this means we may be rescheduling.”

“Call, Skype, text, or email me at any time,” Doctor Johnson glanced at her watch. “This is going to be a wonderful, but difficult time for both of you.” She looked between them. “Try not to keep secrets; it’ll make things easier for both of you if you avoid them like the plague.”

“Thanks Doc,” TJ said.

“Now go home and make sure to call work and family. When the next wave hits you don’t want to be out in public.”

Steve squeezed TJ’s hand gently. “Yes, Ma’am.”

 

TJ felt like a teenager, happiness bubbling in his chest as they made their way downstairs to the parking garage where Steve’s bike was parked. He’d taken a cab here; not having his own car not only helped TJ’s bank account but made it just that bit harder to give into temptation, especially in the middle of the night when sleep was hard to come by.

“You don’t happen to have an extra helmet, do you?” TJ stopped next to the bike as their hands slipped apart reluctantly.

“Just the one,” Steve shrugged awkwardly. “I tend to forget it most of the time, actually.” He held it out to TJ who took it. He paused for a moment, debating. “Pretty sure a crash won’t kill me.”

TJ froze and his gaze trailed from the helmet to meet Steve’s. “What . . . how can you say that? Be so sure?!” he demanded, voice cracking a bit.

Steve closed his eyes for a moment, a laugh puffing out of his lips. “You don’t recognize me.”

“You don’t seem to recognize me, either.” TJ couldn’t help but point out. Throughout their entire meeting there hadn’t been that moment of recognition where a person realized who he was.

“I’m not exactly up to speed on modern . . .” Steve quirked an eyebrow in question. “Celebrities?” 

“I am, sort of,” TJ ran a hand through his hair and stepped closer to the motorcycle. “Thomas James Hammond. My father was Bud Hammond.”

Steve frowned.

“Former President Hammond?” TJ said, disbelief coloring his voice and whispering down their bond. “My mother’s Elaine Barrish, former secretary of state. She’s running for President.”

“To be honest I’m really not that knowledgeable about modern politics. Though I do know who your mom is.” Steve settled himself on the bike and held a hand out to TJ. His lips quirked into a wry grin as he spoke, “Captain Steve Rogers.”

There probably wasn’t any other name he could have said that would have surprised TJ more. TJ blinked, eyes widening. “Captain . . . _Captain America_?!” His mouth fell open and memories of his brother and him playing Howling Commandos at their grandfather’s farm flashed through his mind.

He froze a split second later, shut his gaping mouth, and glanced around, a bit relieved to see that they were still alone.

“I prefer Steve.”

“God, sorry.” He ran a hand over his eyes. “I’m sorry. I hate it when people react that way to me.” 

Usually people he was trying to get into bed. No. He wasn’t going to think about them right now. He didn’t want to, not with his mate here.

Steve leaned forward and grabbed TJ by his waist, pulling him towards the bike. “It’s ok. Best we get basic introductions out of the way now.”

TJ leaned down and pressed his lips against Steve’s. “I don’t care who you are. Well, if you were a mass murderer we might have to have a talk, but I can live with superhero.”

“Good.” Steve smiled at him, plucked the helmet from his hands and slipped it over TJ’s head. “We should get going.”

“Your place first?” 

TJ knew that Steve would want some of his own clothes at the very least before they sequestered themselves away. He winced at the feeling of drying come in his pants as he settled behind Steve on the bike, wrapping his arms around his mate’s body.

“Sounds like a plan,” Steve turned his head to capture TJ’s lips in a kiss before he flicked the visor over TJ’s face and started up the bike.

This was one life event TJ couldn’t wait to share with his family. The basics anyway. He was not going to talk to them about the sex. No matter how much Nana pesters him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve POV

The ride back to his apartment was quick; they only had to make a few stops due to red lights. The feel of Thomas’s arms on his waist, fingers digging in securely, his weight against Steve’s back, and their bond twining and thrumming between them was comforting. Steve just wanted to bask in it.

“This your place?” Thomas asked as he slid the helmet off, surveying the building.

“I have an apartment a few floors up.” Steve shrugged and after hopping off the bike he held a hand out to his mate.

Smiling, Thomas took it and watched as Steve stowed the helmet on the bike. They'd only be gone a few minutes. Hopefully. 

He couldn’t help it, didn’t want to, and leaned down to capture Thomas’ lips in a short, rather chaste kiss. They didn’t have a whole lot of time. He knew the playbook for mating fever and the address Thomas had given him was another twenty minute drive away in good traffic.

Steve wondered what the agents watching him thought of this development, him bringing home another man. He also wondered if Dr. Johnson had reported this to SHIELD. Supposedly she was separate but approved for agents to visit. She had a very high security clearance.

“Lovely place you got here,” Thomas said, glancing around as they entered the apartment.

Steve slipped his keys in his pocket and grabbed a duffle bag off out of a closet near the door. “It’s a little sparse.”

“You could use an interior decorator," the younger man drawled.

“You offering?” Steve called over his shoulder, moving into the bedroom.

“God no! Not my area of expertise,” Thomas called back. “My sister-in-law though, Anne, she’s made a business out of it.”

“I’ll have to ask her advice then,” Steve glanced up as Thomas hesitated in the doorway.

“I could help you pick out a few new outfits,” Thomas said after a couple minutes of watching Steve shove things into the duffle bag. He was leaning against the door frame, eyes surveying Steve’s form unabashedly. “Or a new wardrobe. Please tell me you didn’t pick all this out yourself.”

Steve chuckled, zipping up the bag. “The apartment and most everything in it was provided.”

“Including your clothes?”

“Most of them,” Steve acknowledged, watching as Thomas stepped into the room and glanced around.

“Only bringing clothes?”

“And my shield. It’s in the front room.”

“I saw,” Thomas said and paused near a built in bookshelf near the bed. He reached out and ran a finger lightly down the frame of a picture before carefully picking it up. “Is this . . .?”

Steve dropped the bag on the bed and stepped forward, moving up next to his mate. “Bucky.”

“Was he?”

“Yeah.” Steve smiled slightly and reached out to smooth a finger over the glass over the image of Bucky in his dress uniform. He looked at Thomas to find the man looking back at him. 

“I look like him,” Thomas said, voice soft.

“You do,” he acknowledged and lifted a hand to rest it against Thomas’ cheek. “Not exactly though. You’re different. Feel different.” This was the truth. Thomas felt different than Bucky had and while they did look a lot alike, especially when comparing a black and white photo to technicolor reality, Steve had a list of differences already that he could see.

He was a little shorter than Bucky had been, maybe an inch or so It was barely noticeable, but the difference was more than could be caused just by footwear. His hair was thicker, a slight curl that Bucky’s hair had never had. Thomas was slightly softer in the lines of his face as well. Probably the difference in diet and the fact that Bucky has always worked hard, very physical jobs. There was a subtle difference in the color of their eyes and Thomas was built a bit slimmer, hands softer, which could be accounted for by a different lifestyle as well, Steve supposed. Bucky had spent much of his time working at the docks and then in the military.

Thomas bit his lip, glancing down at the picture.

“You miss him.”

Steve nodded and sighed. “I always will.”

“I didn’t know my mate.” Thomas leaned into his side, eyes slipping shut. “We mated, the initial fever, and then he ran. Couldn’t accept what had happened I guess.” He blinked his eyes open. They were slate gray and held a pain Bucky’s hadn’t—even after his capture and torture. There was also more innocence in them, in a way. “People tell me I’m lucky I survived.”

“Most people can’t understand.”

Thomas smiled a sad slant of his lips. “No, they can’t.” The fact that Steve understood, even if his situation was different, went unstated.

“I’m glad you survived,” Steve murmured thumbing the dark skin under Thomas’ eyes, fingers slipping over pale cheeks. He could see a few freckles faint on the skin.

“You don’t know me.” Thomas leaned into his touch.

“Maybe I don’t know your story. We may not have shared life stories yet or spent much time together, but I do know you.”

Thomas’ breath caught and he opened his eyes, chewed on his lip. “We really should get going.”

Steve nodded and moved to set the frame back on the shelf. 

“Bring it,” Thomas said, grabbing his wrist, “and any other pictures or things you want to. We’re going to be holed up for a while from what I hear and . . . and I want to hear about him.”

He captured Thomas in a kiss, deepening it for a brief moment before stepping away, a smile splitting his lips wide. 

“Thank you.”

"Thank _you_!” Thomas smiled and him and then winced as he shifted. “Before we get back on your bike I really need to use your bathroom and maybe borrow a pair of boxers?”

Steve couldn’t help but laugh. 

“I need to change, too.” He grinned, eyes moving over his mate’s form. Thomas was gorgeous. “I’d offer to join you, but . . .”

“Probably not the best idea if we want to get to my place any time in the next few days.”

“Right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being so late! I'm switching jobs for the second time. I was silly to think I could handle the schedule of my current job. I'll have a nice 8-430 Monday to Friday job starting the 28th. Yay. So I'll feel less like dead tired, maybe read some fic on breaks/before I sleep and more in the yay writing mood.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TJ POV

The apartment building TJ lived at was a high end sober living complex—different from the average sober living apartments most of the NA and AA members he’d spoken with lived. There was a bit more security and privacy due to the number of celebrities, politicians, and generally wealthy people that stayed there over the years. His mother had insisted upon a building of this caliber and TJ hadn’t felt the need to argue.

It was a nice place, if a tad bland. He did have to check in with his super with any guests though, which meant introducing Steve right out the bat to a near stranger. It was a good thing Steve was his mate as normally he would have needed to give at least a week heads up about a guest staying over. For him though it would be best to be stuck at home than in an unknown location.

Even Captain America’s apartment.

Steve had taken the stumbled explanation without comment and not an ounce of judgement. He had simply nodded and smiled his way through meeting Carmen. The cursory search of his bag had ended with a blush on all three of their faces and the frazzled woman tracing the star on Steve’s shield, shyly asked for his autograph—for her nephew of course.

Steve had obliged with a small grin and even waited as Carmen printed out a picture from the internet for him to sign.

As Steve spoke with her, TJ pulled out his phone and stared at his text message alerts for a moment. After a brief moment of hesitation he made a decision and shot a message to his brother.

>> So, apparently I’m the lucky 1%.

It only took a minute for TJ to get a response. Oddly quick, but then his entire family had been quicker to respond to him since his overdose.

 

Dougie> ?  
Dougie> What are you talking about?

 

>> Don’t expect me for dinner tomorrow. Maybe next week though.  
>> I mated again.

 

There was a longer pause before the next message came through. He wondered if Doug thought he was lying. TJ wondered how much convincing he’d have to do with his family on the topic.

 

Dougie> My God TJ! Congrats!  
Dougie> I’m so happy for you!  
Dougie> Who?  
Dougie> Have you told anyone else?

 

>> Not yet. Just happened 30 or so minutes ago. We’re heading home.  
>> I should introduce you in person.

Dougie> Ok. I’m hoping that’s not a bad thing.  
Dougie> Is he a Republican?  
Dougie> He’s not a Republican is he?

>> We haven’t discussed politics yet.  
>> Not sure I’d care.

Dougie> He’s your mate. You wouldn’t.  
Dougie> Unless he was a Nazi.

>> Definitely not a Nazi!

Dougie>> You want me to break this news to Mom and Dad?

>> If it comes up? I can call later, maybe.  
>> Carmen is checking his things before we head up to my place. I think we’ll be stuck in place for a while.

Dougie> Are you ok?

>> He’s perfect, Dougie. Don’t worry. Everyone will love him. Promise.

Dougie>> Be careful and call or text me if you need anything.

>> Even lube?

Dougie>> Anything but sex supplies.  
Dougie>> Isn’t there some sort of delivery service for that?

>> Probably.

TJ was pretty sure his parents would forgive any political differences Steve had with them. If nothing else his parents could ignore any disagreements in policy for his sake. They better anyway. Plus Steve was Captain America. His mother could probably spin a familiar relationship in a positive manner either way. 

By the time they finally made it into the apartment TJ had been calling home for the last few months the burn of mating fever was rushing through their veins.

TJ locked the door and Steve dropped his bag and shield, it made a pinging echo as it slid to the floor near the couch. He turned just in time, body vibrating as Steve pinned him to the door, pulling him into a kiss.

He moaned and slid his hands down to press up, under Steve’s T-shirt, searching for skin. Steve had already shed his own jacket allowing for ease of access. They broke for a moment, eyes meeting, as TJ helped Steve remove his shirt.

God, Steve was gorgeous. Every muscle had some level of definition. TJ felt completely out of shape as he ran his hands over his mate. 

To his surprise, Steve let him maneuver them so he was the one against the door and leaning in TJ kissed a line down his neck, sucking marks that were fading within moments into Steve’s skin. Just before reaching one pebbled nipple, Steve pushed him back and pulled TJ’s shirt off as he stepped out of his running shoes.

TJ found himself captured in a kiss again as Steve ran his hands over his shoulders, back, and settled them at his waist. He was maneuvered back in an almost dance as they kissed, until he felt calf’s press against the couch.

Steve pressed him down onto it and dropped down to his knees in front of him, breaking their kiss. His eyes were dilated with desire, the ocean blue color surrounding the wide pupils barely visible. TJ lifted his hips as Steve unbuttoned his pants and pulled the jeans and boxers down his hips and thighs to pool around his shins.

If someone had told him even yesterday that Steve Rogers—Captain America—would be about to give him a blow job, TJ would have laughed and referred them to his therapist. A therapist anyway. His own obviously had more important patients to deal with.

He shuddered out a gasp, eyes wanting to drift shut as the pleasure of having his mate stroking him sizzled through his entire being. Steve thumbed over his slit, spreading precum before the wet heat of Steve’s mouth engulfed him.

TJ tangled a hand in Steve’s short blonde hair, and patting and squeezing gently at his shoulder before Steve used the hand that had been resting on TJ’s thigh to grab it, fitting their fingers together in a tight grasp. The image and feeling of Steve’s mouth sliding around him, bobbing until he’s taken deep was mesmerizing. It also felt so very good. TJ was having a hard time keeping his eyes open and his body wanted to press back, his neck and head to fall back and revel in the feeling.

He just wanted to keep watching.

Steve is good at this, definitely experienced, but TJ wasn’t going to dwell. He’s too embroiled in the feeling, both the physical and emotional aspects of the situation. The feedback through their bond burned its way through his very being.

It doesn't take long before TJ came, Steve swallowing around him. In another situation TJ would have been embarrassed about how quick this encounter had gone. Instead, Moments later he was pulling Steve upwards and leaning back as Steve pressed against him, their lips meeting in a kiss. TJ could taste himself as he swirled and slid his tongue against Steve’s.

It’s hot and for a moment his Nana’s lecture on safe sex slipped through his mind but he disregarded it as TJ hadn’t had sex since before his over dose and he’d been given a clean bill of health in every testing since. As for Steve—hello! Super soldier! He doubted that he’d picked up anything that wasn’t easily cured by the serum that made him what he is today.

Steve’s jeans chafed bit as they rubbed against TJ. Dropping a hand between them he worked at the belt buckle, undoing it before Steve helped him discard the rest of their clothing. He can’t push himself to care as one of their shoes caused a crash nearby.

He was too focused on the feel of Steve’s cock in his hand as he spread pre-cum over it. The taste of it on his lips and the feel of his mate’s body quivering with both lust and holding back the need to thrust up into his mouth.

TJ took him deep, well-practiced at this. Admittedly it’d been a while since he deep throated anyone and Steve was bigger than anyone else he’d done this with, but he does it anyway, ignoring his gag reflex. 

He pulled back slightly, the head still in his mouth when Steve gasps out a warning. TJ swallowed in response and Steve came, the taste similar to his own, but still different. Unique.

Steve wasn’t as sweaty or tired as some people would be, but he’s still panting a bit with the pleasure and rush of it all as they maneuvered themselves up onto the couch to continue a slow, passionate make out session as they learned each other’s bodies.

It didn’t take very long before Steve, followed quickly by TJ and was ready for round two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not going to make excuses. Sorry long delay, especially since this part has been written for a long time. I actually did think I posted it already.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve POV

Steve had put in a quick call to SHIELD while Thomas had been using his bathroom to clean up. He hadn't wanted to ruin the moment, the so-called afterglow, but letting his contact in Shield HR know the situation was necessary. No matter that the woman on the phone had sounded perfectly nice and the picture of professionalism, the ordeal had left him blushing and he didn’t want to admit how much stammering he’d done over the course of the call. 

He was glad that he had gotten it over with, though, even with the embarrassment. Now he was free to stare at Thomas’ sleeping face resting against his shoulder without having to worry about someone tracking him down or his phone buzzing with news of an important mission. They'd have days to learn each other and ignore the entire world as it spun around them.

Not that Steve had any doubt _at least_ one SHIELD agent had set up shop nearby to keep an eye out, but that was something else entirely. He also had the idea that his mate wasn’t exactly left to his own devices either. If nothing else his place of residence was a sign that someone was invested in his well being.

They’d moved to the bed after a quick lunch and Steve had found himself marveling at modern sex supplies again, not that he said anything aloud. Lube was an amazing invention. So much better than Vaseline. It was a Godsend. 

Being able to be _open_ was a Godsend.

He found himself idly tracing patterns over Thomas’ back, his fingers itching for a pencil and notebook to sketch his mate. Steve would have to ask if Thomas would pose for him later, he wanted to capture this image. This memory.

He had too few pictures of Bucky . . . his memories of the man were slowly fading and it pained him to think of a time he might not be able to remember evenings spent on the small bed in their one room apartment or curled in a pile of blankets in front of their stove. How Bucky's hair flopped across his forehead, trailing into his eyes when it'd been too long since he visited the barbers.

Something told him that capturing moments--good, sweet, gentle moments--would be good for Thomas as well. Within every ounce of his being he knew that things had been tough for Thomas; his life full of hardships that the man had only just started to leave in his past. And sure, while Steve had lost Bucky after years of being together, Thomas had lost his mate within hours. He was strong, stronger than so many others no matter what the world said. Thomas had not only gone through a slight fever withdrawal before his mate committed suicide, but had managed to live through it.

He was strong; he'd just been facing some of the worst demons life could throw at you.

Thomas hummed as he pressed a kiss into Steve’s skin, eyes slanting open. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Steve replied, smiling.

“What time is it?”

“About six.”

“I can’t believe I slept,” Thomas groaned, twisting to lean back against the bed, running a hand through his sleep and sex mused hair.

“That much sex will generally knock anyone out for the count,” Steve said voice muffled as he pressed a kiss against Thomas’ lips.

“You’re not sleeping,” Thomas pointed out, adjusting in order to prop himself up on an elbow and Steve’s chest.

“I have a bit of an advantage.” Steve stole another deep kiss, licking into his mate's mouth and sliding their tongues together. A moan rumbled out from deep in his mate's chest.

Drawing back, Thomas hmmed and grinned, eyes slitting open, pupils blown wide. “I can’t decide whether to be envious or not,” he said after a moment of catching his breath. Dropping his head to press a kiss against Steve’s chest he grinned playfully and then nipped, suckling a mark into the clear skin. “I am a bit annoyed.”

Steve raised an eyebrow.

“I’m going to have to deal with _super soldier hickies_ while you won’t ever have to worry about needing to wear high collared shirts.”

“You’ll just have to keep trying,” Steve rolled them over and pressed a kiss against Thomas’ collar bone. 

“Never give up, never surrender!”

At Steve’s frown Thomas framed his face with his hands and kissed him. “We’re going to have to work on your pop culture knowledge.”

“I have a list,” Steve said into the kiss, “I haven’t had time to work through it. And people keep adding to it.”

“You’ll have to show it to me later," Thomas said between kisses.

“Not now?” Steve asked, leaning back and raising an eyebrow.

Thomas blinked at him and then moved, draping himself over Steve. His hand slid down to grasp Steve’s cock. He leaned in and stole another kiss, grinning into it.

Steve shuddered out a gasp. Later was a good plan. A _very_ good plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmm . . . so this was the original last part of part 1. Then there was a family interlude and part 2 being Winter Soldier. I honestly am not sure when this will be updated next. I am 100k into writing a GoT fic at the moment, but at least it got me writing again because I hadn't written anything in a very long time before starting it in October.
> 
> Thank you for reading, commenting, and kudos! <3

**Author's Note:**

> I will be posting a new chapter once a week until I finish part two completely. Then I will probably bump that up to two. I'm off work on Wed/Thursday so that is likely when chapters will be posted at first.


End file.
